


The Bone Merchant

by thelastpitchbender



Series: A Boy and His Sword [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action, Beedle is a ladies' man, Bokoblins are dumb, Gen, Humor, Link is a dork, Parcy, Plus this one annoying traveler, with few social skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 04:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastpitchbender/pseuds/thelastpitchbender
Summary: When Beedle isn't busy selling quality arrows and insects to the good citizens of Hyrule, he dreams of founding a glorious business empire and publishing a bestselling book. It just so happens that an angry, shirtless kid with a bag full of monster parts might be able to help him out with that. A BotW oneshot.





	The Bone Merchant

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Not much to say about this, other than it was originally posted on ff.net in February. It's dumb and I had fun writing it, so sorry, Internet, but you get to read it now.

It was a pleasant walk from the edge of the Great Plateau to Riverside Stable, so long as you ignored the monsters.

This was something Beedle was very good at doing. You couldn’t just _casually_ wander Hyrule for several years without getting good at avoiding them, or sneaking past them, or running away from them. That was no small feat with the amount of goods he was carrying.

Beedle suddenly gasped. How had he not thought of that one before? Coming to an awkward halt, he fumbled around in a front pocket of his pack for his notebook and pencil, then flipped it open to the last page he had written on. He scribbled down a sentence while grinning like a maniac.

_Rule #57: Get good at running. Especially with a really big backpack._

Beedle snapped the notebook shut in satisfaction. _Beedle’s Guide to Modern Hyrulean Commerce_ was bound to be a bestseller, once he had the capital to print more than seven copies.

And once he had the book finished. That would also be helpful.

But really, the universal and pragmatic advice contained in the finished product would be invaluable to any traveling salesman –

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he flipped the notebook back open.

_Addendum: Also get good at running with a dumb horse or donkey or whatever._

Yes, that was important. Beedle was somewhat unique in that he didn’t have an animal with him, but many other traveling salesmen did. He thought some more.

 _Note to self,_ he scribbled. _Find someone who knows about horses and/or donkeys._

Satisfied with his progress, he put away the notebook and pencil.

He wandered down the road with his massive pack, humming an indistinct melody under his breath. It was a little after noon and the sun was beating down on him, but a pleasantly bracing breeze was coming off the Hylia River and cutting across the road. Not to mention that he wasn’t facing that eyesore of a Malice-infested castle, which did a lot to make his day better.

It was a beautiful day, really. There were a lot of people out on the roads, taking advantage of a day without rain. He recognized many of them as traveling salespeople and waved a greeting at them as they trotted by on their horses.

Beedle liked his pack better than horses. It made him look more distinctive and gave him a sort of _brand_ , if you will. He liked to think that one could recognize his beetle-shaped pack even in a Hebra blizzard –

A sudden cacophony of noise sounded behind him. The ground shook under his feet.

Beedle turned around and peered at the ashen cloud cresting the hill he had just passed. Birds flew from the trees, the fluttering of wings fading as they left the area far behind.

Explosions. Probably coming from the East Post Ruins, he mused. Exactly what did those monsters think was going to happen if they kept explosive barrels lying around their camps? He rolled his eyes and kept on walking.

It wasn’t long until he reached the stable. Ember, the owner, called out a greeting from behind his counter. “Good to see you again, Beedle! Hylia knows I need some arrows to fight off the monsters.” 

Beedle automatically smiled and waved at him, setting his pack down with a _thunk_ , but beneath his mind was whirring. This stable was never threatened by monsters. Unless… He glanced over at the East Post Ruins a little nervously. He’d heard the rumors about monsters getting more aggressive in the past few weeks.

But regardless of his feelings on the matter, Beedle did what Beedle did best: sell lots of shit.

It was nice to finally sit down in front of his pack, shaded by the eaves of the stable. He folded down his colorful makeshift table, and soon enough the denizens of the stable lined up in front of him to stock up.

The pragmatically-minded bought bundles of arrows (at quite a bargain!) and the adventurous selected from a wide variety of quality insects (very cheap!) to cook elixirs. Well-worn rupees changed hands with one of his trademark excited hoots for every transaction, and Beedle soon found himself in possession of a very small fortune. He grinned delightedly, sifting his hands through the pile of rupees when he thought no one was looking.

Unfortunately, someone had been looking.

“There you are, you greedy-guts!” the Annoying Traveler yelled, stomping his way over from where he’d been in the stable. Beedle suppressed a scowl. That _snake._ That stupid weedy man with his dumb greasy black hair. Beedle didn’t even know his name, and he was sure the stable dwellers didn’t know it either. All he knew was that the traveler was, to put it nicely, the _worst_.

The traveler shook a bundle of arrows right in Beedle’s face. One end of an arrow that had snapped off but was now dangling by a thin strip of wood whacked him in the face. To Beedle’s infinite credit, he did not flinch.

Definitely not because the traveler was intimidating. It was his iron willpower. Definitely. It was one of his rules, even.

_Rule #15: The modern Hyrulean economy is cutthroat, sometimes literally. Get good at standing your ground._

“I don’t see anything wrong with the arrows,” Beedle lied.

The traveler scowled, which made his stupid face even uglier. “Can. You. Not. See. What’s. In front of. YOUR FACE?” He punctuated this last shout by throwing the bundle of arrows dangerously close to Beedle’s feet. Upon hitting the ground, the bundle rudely broke apart, broken arrows rolling everywhere. Beedle grimaced at the mess.

This _jerkface_ probably broke the arrows on purpose, just to demand a full refund.

“I tested them all myself,” Beedle lied again. Well, it wasn’t _entirely_ a lie – he’d once watched his Rito supplier test them. He was very… _thorough_ about it.

“Well, I demand a refund,” the traveler said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Beedle pointed to a small sign at the corner of his table. _ALL TRANSACTIONS FINAL._

“They’re broken! They’re defective!” the traveler spluttered indignantly, his face going darker red by the second.

Beedle just sighed. It was too bad he had to follow his own cursed rules.

_Rule #2: The customer is always right. Always be a paragon of excellent customer service._

Instead of arguing with the traveler, he rummaged through one of the front pockets of his pack, pulled out an inkwell and a quill, and then grabbed the sign. When he was finished writing, he put the sign back with a delicate yet deliberate motion.

 _THAT MEANS YOU, DEAR TRAVELER,_ it now read _._ Beedle gave him a guileless grin.

_Rule #3: If customer service is not enough, strictly enforce store policy. (If you know what I mean.)_

Ah, yes, Beedle reflected as the traveler stomped away, leaving the arrows at Beedle’s feet. His book would be quite the bestseller.

The traveler was now sitting by the cooking pot, able to shoot the occasional venomous glare over at Beedle. Ha! If he thought that was going to faze Beedle, Hyrule’s greatest traveling salesman…

Then Parcy walked out of the stable, and Beedle hastily scooped up as many of the broken arrows as possible and dumped them behind the pack before she noticed him. She looked rather severe, but she was much, much nicer than the Annoying Traveler, thank the Goddess.

She finally noticed him and strolled over, and Beedle laid on the charm. “Hello, hello! How’s my favorite treasure hunter doing? Find any good royal guard gear?”

Parcy smiled. “Not yet. Actually though, I wanted to talk to you about these arrows.” She pulled a bundle of broken arrows from behind her back.

 _Noooooooo,_ Beedle whined internally. They were actually bad?

“Did you shoot these at something?” he asked.

Parcy shrugged. “I broke a lot of them by shooting at hay targets. I don’t think they’re supposed to be that brittle.”

Beedle grimaced. He would have to have some strong words with his Rito supplier. “Ah. Well. I know I’m not supposed to do this,” he said, voice dropping conspiratorially low, “but I’ll give you a refund. I feel bad about selling things of poor quality, you know?”

Parcy’s gaze darted to the traveler for a brief instant, and Beedle knew that she’d heard the entire exchange earlier.

“I’ll do it because I like you so much,” he said, sending a wink at her.

Beedle was gratified to see a slight blush dust her cheeks. “Oh,” she said. “Well, I don’t need the refund. Can I just get a new bundle of arrows instead?”

“Sure can,” he said, gleefully noting the piercing glare he was getting from the traveler.

Things were going just the way they should be. Beautiful, sunny weather, flirting with Parcy, sticking it to the Annoying Traveler, getting _filthy stinking rich_ –

“Hey, why don’t you put some clothes on before you start shoving people around, you little creep?” Parcy snapped.

Beedle blinked. “What?” he asked, startled by her sudden outburst.

But Parcy hadn’t been facing him. While Beedle had been totally zoned out, a kid had run up and tried to squeeze past Parcy. The kid shot her an irritated look.

That took a lot of guts, considering that he was wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of shorts.

 _What in the name of the good Goddess Hylia…_  

The kid was now bent over and gasping, hands on his knees. He had dropped a suspiciously large burlap sack and a boko bow in front of him. He was covered in scrapes, cuts and bruises. His hair might have been blond, but it was hard to tell, messy and streaked with dirt and soot as it was.

“Mister – “ Beedle tried, determined to seem unfazed. He couldn’t deny service to anyone, suspicious or shirtless as they might have been!

The kid held one finger up while still catching his breath. Beedle waited patiently.

 _Rule #24: There will always be a customer weirder than you._ (Beedle always debated whether or not to put that one in the book, because he couldn’t have potential customers thinking he was _weird,_ after all _._ )

He finally straightened up and looked at Beedle, who immediately had to choke back a laugh and then feel terrible for having that impulse in the first place. His gaze was sharp, intense, and forbiddingly angry, but the effect was ruined by the fact that one of his eyebrows had been singed off and that he was shorter than Parcy. And also by the fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

The kid seemed to realize that he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted because his expression shifted into something almost indignant. He planted his dirty, burned hands on his hips and continued to glare at Beedle.

Parcy was backing away slowly, reaching a hand behind her in an attempt to feel out where the stable wall was. Her brows were still furrowed, but she was rightfully being cautious about someone who looked insane. Ember was nowhere to be seen, and the traveler seemed frozen in alarm by the whole situation.

Ah, well. It seemed it was all up to Beedle now.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he said, letting a smile plaster itself onto his face.

“I’m Link,” the kid replied. For a brief moment, Beedle caught a strange look of uncertainty in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly he brushed it off as his imagination.

“Link,” Beedle echoed. “Pleasure to meet you. The name’s Beedle, but you can call me – “ He chuckled a bit awkwardly. “Actually, let’s just stick with Beedle.”

Beedle desperately wanted to give his whole explanation about traveling around Hyrule, even in these very dangerous times, and offering a high price for gemstones, the quality insects, etc. etc., but now really did not seem like the time. The kid – Link – was puffing himself up, like he was holding in a torrential outpouring of words, or maybe just a really, really big breath.

Either way, the stiff, wide-eyed look on his face was _funny_ , and Beedle’s smile grew more genuine again. 

“Sell me arrows,” Link finally blurted.

Now _this_ was something he could deal with. “How many?” Beedle asked, leaning forward in anticipation. 

Link thought for a second, then answered decisively. “All of them.”

Beedle raised an eyebrow. He kept a list of people who liked to buy up his whole stock of arrows, and he wasn’t sure that Link would want to be on it. “I’ve got…three bundles of five arrows left. Then twenty more arrows,” he said, rummaging around in his pack for the arrows and doing some quick math in his head. “That’ll be…210 rupees.”

Link frowned. “Rupees,” he muttered, looking down at the ground.

“Yes. Rupees,” Beedle said, feeling his smile freeze on his face. He considered himself to be a pretty easygoing guy, but if this kid was trying to buy up his entire stock without actually having any money…

After what looked like some careful deliberation, Link scooped up the burlap sack and dumped its contents out in front of Beedle, who immediately did a double take. In the corner of his eye, he saw Parcy clap a hand over her mouth.

There was a massive pile of monster parts sitting in front of Beedle now. The blocky shapes of bokoblin fangs, razor-sharp lizalfos talons, and the spirals of moblin horns, all gleaming bone-white in the midday sun.

“Um,” Link said, bringing a hand up to his mouth in thought. “How many…?”

 _Arrows? Rupees? Fangs? Monsters murdered in cold blood?_ Aghast, Beedle glanced from the pile of bones to the scrawny, short kid behind them, then back to the bones.

Then an idea wormed its way into his mind. A wonderful idea. A glorious, insanely profitable idea.

“Let me sort these out so I can get you your rupees,” Beedle said while reaching out for the monster parts. He ignored Parcy’s alarmed glance in his direction.

Beedle also ignored his vague nausea at the idea of touching fangs and horns from dead monsters, overcome by visions of the fortune he could make. Piles of shimmering gold and silver rupees glimmered beneath his eyelids when he blinked.

 _This_ was what he had been missing this whole time, he thought. As much as he loved his insects, the elixir market was in desperate need of sellers. So many missed opportunities to harvest the requisite raw materials just because traveling salespeople weren’t usually handy in a fight, especially not Beedle –

He abruptly realized that Link was now bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, eyebrows drawn together again. “How long is this going to take?” he asked, aggrieved. Link glanced over his shoulder quickly. Toward the East Post Ruins, Beedle realized, suspicion dawning in his mind.

“I’m sure you realize that all these different parts have different market values,” Beedle said with a frown. “I have to sort them out and then do the math.”

Link hesitated, then nodded, but it was clear by the brief surprise on his face that he hadn’t known that before. By Hylia, this kid was a bad liar. What kind of rock had he been living under?

After a couple of seconds, Link glanced up, staring out into the middle distance, tense as a bowstring. Beedle felt a sudden uneasiness sweep over him at Link’s change in demeanor. He couldn’t hear anything. Why –

He couldn’t hear anything. No birds were singing at all, as if something had scared them all off. Had Link…pissed some monsters off? Who were now coming for him? To this very stable?

“Can I just take the arrows now and do the whole other thing later?” Link pleaded, reaching for the boko bow at his feet. 

_Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope._

“If you’re going to bring monsters right to this lovely stable’s doorstep, I feel compelled to warn its owner,” Beedle said while lifting up the table in front of him and crawling out from under it. 

Link’s eyes widened in alarm. “I never said – “

“You’re a bad liar, kid,” Beedle cut in, not unkindly. “I’ll get you the arrows when I come back out.”

No guarantees on how long it would take him to inform Ember, he thought, twisting his hands nervously.

A quick glance at the counter inside the stable revealed it to be empty. The traveler had fled, too. “Ohhhhh,” Beedle said to himself, quietly, more a groan than his usual declaration of excitement.

How? Why? Just – _how?_ Why did Link have a bow but no arrows? How did he amass such a large collection of monster parts without any functional weapons? Where did all those burns and cuts come from? _And why was he running around in his underwear?_

Beedle’s private moment of panic was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek of “IT SET ME ON FIRE HELP – “

Beedle froze for a second, somehow thinking nothing but _how can Link be on fire? He’s barely wearing any clothes!_

Shortly after, Parcy yelled, “Beedle!” She sounded like she was calling for help while staring down an angry lynel. At her shout, Beedle ran back outside and gaped at the scene.

Well, it wasn’t a lynel, but it wasn’t pretty either.

Link was rolling around on the ground, swatting furiously at his shorts. A red bokoblin was looming above him, stamping its feet and shrieking in anger, looking for all the world like a child having a tantrum. It was hefting a heavy moblin club, which was currently on fire, just like Link’s shorts were.

The situation was so stupid that Beedle was immediately irritated rather than scared. For one, it was now clear to him that Link had been responsible for the explosions at the East Post Ruins and that these monsters were angry enough to chase him.

“Is this some new teenager thing?” he asked Parcy, who was pressed up against the wall of the stable and staring at the bokoblin with very wide eyes. “Sneaking into monster camps and throwing around explosive barrels? I bet it’s a stupid teenager thing.”

Parcy ignored him, which was uncharacteristic of her. While still flat against the wall, she slid down a bit and dragged Link’s boko bow toward her with her foot until she could scoop it up without having to get any closer to the monster. “Link!” she called out.

Link finally stopped rolling and scrambled to his feet. Parcy tossed him the bow, and he fumbled at it a bit before it was secure in his hands.

“That’s nice of you,” said Link while ducking under a mighty swipe from the bokoblin, “but I kind of need arrows!”

Parcy glanced at Beedle, imploring, and he groaned in frustration. Math. How was he supposed to do _math_ when a bokoblin was in the middle of attacking his customer?

This wasn’t in any of his rules. Any of them. They all stressed the utmost importance of _not_ being around monsters at any time!

Well, when life gave you spicy peppers. Time to throw the rulebook out, Beedle thought with a huff.

“I’ll make you a deal, Link,” Beedle yelled at him. “I’ll trade you one monster part for one arrow.”

It was _brilliant_. Most of those monster parts were worth more than a single arrow. Now he just had to hope Link wouldn’t catch on –

“I’ve been asleep for the last hundred years, so I might be wrong–“ The bokoblin smacked Link in the back with its club, and he sprawled face-first into the dirt. “–But aren’t they each worth more than a single arrow?” he finished while rolling away from another strike.

Goddess _curse_ him. He was insane _and_ knowledgeable about the elixir trade.

“The bokoblin horns are only worth 3 rupees each,” said Beedle, no longer feeling bad about watching him get smacked around. “So essentially you would be getting two arrows for the price of one. Can’t beat that deal!” If Link played his cards right, anyway. Beedle eyed the pile of monster parts greedily.

The bokoblin was now straying a little too close to the very flammable walls of the stable, and Link said, “Fine, fine! Give me one!” He snapped his fingers at Beedle and held out his hand, the expression on his face suggesting a mix of irritation and determination.

Beedle deliberately picked a lizalfos talon out of the pile and deposited it near his pack. Ha. That was two and a half arrows right there. That would show him to be rude to Parcy.

No sooner had Beedle pulled an arrow out of his pack and placed it in Link’s hand did Link nock it, draw the string back, and let the arrow fly right between the bokoblin’s eyes. The monster spun around and staggered back while screaming.

Parcy and Beedle both gaped at Link. He moved with a warrior’s grace and brutal efficiency, the likes of which Beedle very rarely saw. He wordlessly held his hand out for another arrow, and Beedle complied, pulling a bokoblin horn out of the pile. Half price for an arrow.

Boy, had he made a mistake in assuming Link was just a short, scrawny kid.

The second arrow hit in almost exactly the same spot as the first and felled the monster. As it vanished in a sickly purple cloud of smoke, Link picked up the fang and horn that was left behind and dropped it into the pile. “There’s more,” he said quietly.

“What, more monsters?” Parcy’s disembodied voice sniped. Beedle looked around wildly before realizing that she had hid behind a crate after seeing what Link could do. “What did you _do_ to them?”

Beedle was about to point out that his comment didn’t necessarily mean there were more monsters coming, but he shut his mouth at the gloomy look on Link’s face.

“For starters, I blew up their camp. But they started it!” he amended hastily, eyes wide and innocent.

Normally that would have been true, but Beedle somehow doubted that Link hadn’t provoked them in any way. “So where’s all your clothes?” Beedle asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

Link had the grace to look embarrassed. “They stole them. While I was swimming.”

“Right. And where did that bow come from?”

Beedle half expected Link to say something like, _Oh, I just clubbed a bokoblin to death with his dead buddy’s weapon, then I took the bow_ , but he chimed in with, “Oh, I had it with me.”

“With you. While you were swimming,” said Parcy from behind the crate.

“For target practice,” said Link evasively.

“In the middle of a _river_ – “ Parcy shouted.

Beedle cut her off before she could strangle Link. “With no arrows?” he finished.

Link’s brows furrowed in faint indignation. “Well, I _realized_ that, but by the time I got back to shore they were running off with all my stuff!”

“I still don’t understand how you thought you were going to be able to shoot a bow in the middle of the Hylia River, but okay,” groused Parcy.

Link ignored her comment, turning to Beedle. “Give me…” He frowned. “How many can I fit in my mouth…?”

It took Beedle a second to realize what had been said. “What?”

“Five arrows,” Link decided.

Beedle decided that it was _not_ his business to know what sort of weird things his customers were into. He shrugged and counted out five random monster parts (with an aggregate value of…36 rupees, so worth six arrows, his mind automatically calculated). 

He handed the five arrows to Link, who promptly tried holding them between his teeth.

“Ohhh,” Beedle said, feeling a bit stupid. What else was he going to do, stick them down his shorts?

He noticed that Parcy was snooping around the crates for something. She was looking for weapons, he realized. He paled.

Parcy hefted a double-headed axe and said, “Hey, Link – “

“I think you should keep that one, Parcy,” Beedle interrupted. “Two people fighting is better than one.”

Parcy glared at him and opened her mouth, but Link cut in. “He’s right. I’ll be fine with just a bow.”

Beedle’s knees weakened with relief and he let out a breath. There was still time to get more monster parts…

“If you’d let me _talk_ , you’d know that never have I ever been in an actual fight,” Parcy grumbled, but she grudgingly held onto the axe. It wasn’t particularly surprising that Beedle had managed to convince her, what with her constantly going on about the royal guards’ weapons.

“There’s more of them coming up the road,” Link suddenly said, exasperation edging his voice. He put the arrows in his mouth again, then took one and nocked it. Parcy shuffled over to where he was, hefting the axe in an awkward ready stance.

Beedle backed up to his pack. Someone had to keep an eye on the arrows and bones, after all.

A sudden faint screeching sounded in the distance, accompanied by dust clouds rising from the road ahead. Beedle shrank back. This went against _every_ instinct he had. Don’t get close! Don’t fight them! Don’t die! 

Fat lot of good his instincts were doing now, Beedle thought wearily. He absently sorted arrows and monster parts into piles, ready for the inevitable trades. He ignored the way sweat slicked his palms and the things he was touching.

 _Curse_ that Link. Stupid kid.

There were now a group of bokoblins running at full tilt toward them. Some were twirling their clubs above their heads, and some were sending very poorly aimed arrows at the Hylians clustered by the stable. There would be a lot of screaming involved in the fight, Beedle thought with ill humor. At least he could brew himself an elixir to cure his inevitable headache with all his own monster parts.

Oh, but his rules. _Rule #9: Never get high on your own supply._ (He really did have to change the wording there. He wasn’t a Goddess cursed _drug dealer_ , after all.)

“Damn you to hell, Link,” he hissed under his breath in extreme irritation. “If we don’t get out of this, I’m having some strong words with some of my friends. You won’t even know what’s coming.”

The threat hung in the air for a brief second before the first bokoblin reached Link’s firing distance.

Link’s infallible aim got the bokoblin stumbling back, clutching its face, and Beedle had instant second thoughts. Again.

Parcy’s arms were shaking. She shrieked and took a wild swing with her axe as a monster lunged for her. Beedle cringed as she missed and the momentum of her swing spun her around. The bokoblin screamed and hefted its club. Parcy could do nothing but stare in terror. Even Beedle shot to his feet, pulse racing.

The bokoblin suddenly fell to the ground, an arrow sprouting from its eye. Link was giving its corpse a ferocious stare. The first bokoblin he had shot ran at him, and he immediately pivoted and felled the monster.

Parcy was poking at the fallen bokoblins with her axe to make sure they were dead, Beedle noticed with no small amount of amusement.

Then a shadow fell over her, and before he could stop himself Beedle yelled, “Behind you!”

Parcy whipped around with a shriek, and the force her spin gave her axe swing was enough to send the bokoblin flying to the side. Beedle whooped, feeling secondhand euphoria at her victory.

Link, who had also turned around at Beedle’s shout, scowled at him. “Hey, where’s my warning?”

“You don’t need it, pal,” Beedle said, not unkindly, while Link finished off the monster Parcy hit with a well-aimed arrow.

“Sure I do!” Link still managed to sound indignant while ducking under a boko club and edging his way over to Beedle. “I’m fighting with a bow that’s basically a twig with delusions of grandeur!”

Beedle cast a critical eye at the boko bow, which was starting to show the strain of its use. Some bark was peeling off it, and the bowstring was starting to fray. It really was just a glorified stick, wasn’t it? So it would take more arrows to kill all the bokoblins. Oh no.

Link was holding his hand out for arrows. With the practiced ease of a merchant, Beedle scooped up a bundle of five arrows in one hand and five assorted monster parts in the other.

_Fireproof elixirs, hasty elixirs, elixirs that renew your very soul and grant you a new lease on life…_

Beedle suddenly had to flinch out of the way of a bokoblin’s club. Parcy chased after it, screaming like a banshee with her axe held over her head.

“You go, Parcy!” Beedle yelled giddily. Link frowned at the lack of attention he was getting, but it couldn’t be helped. This was a special occasion for Parcy! It was obvious Link had been in many fights before.

Before long, there was only one blue bokoblin left. It was the one that had set Link on fire earlier, and its club was somehow still on fire. It stamped its feet and screeched at Link, who hopped on top of a crate and yelled back, “I’ll set your _house_ on fire!”

Eh. Beedle didn’t need any more proof that Link was certifiably insane, but there was some more anyway.

“Do you have any fire arrows, Beedle?” Link shouted. Beedle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not because of the question, which was perfectly legitimate. He wished he could carry them, but he was always nervous about putting that sort of stuff in his pack.

No, he choked back a snort because Link was being absolutely melodramatic. If that Kass guy were around, he doubtlessly would have said something about how Link’s shout rumbled with the thunder of vengeance. But really, Link was doing the thing where he was puffing himself up again, and it looked just as stupid the second time. At least he was standing on a crate now.

Beedle sprinted over to another crate on the other side of the stable, ripping a blanket off of it and clumsily tearing a strip as he ran back to his pack. He tied the strip just above the arrowhead, then stuck the end under the still-lit cooking pot for just a brief second.

_Ugh, I hope this works._

The strip of cloth was aflame, but there was no telling how long it would take for the flame to spread to the shaft of the arrow. He knew it was treated with some sort of lacquer, but he had no idea exactly how much fire protection that afforded.

Oh, wait. This next part was even worse.

Link had seen what Beedle was doing, and beckoned him forward impatiently. But how was he supposed to get around that big flaming moblin club?

His brief giddiness faded when he realized that now it was _his_ turn to get involved in the fight.

“Parcy,” he hissed.

Parcy seemed to know what he needed without saying a word. She nodded and ran to the bokoblin’s other side, hollering and waving her axe around.

For an instant, Beedle was frozen. The heat of the burning arrow scorched his hand and forearm. Sweat ran down his forehead.

 _Move_.

The bokoblin was distracted. Link was shouting something at him that he wasn’t quite comprehending. The path he needed to run was clear.

_Just move, dammit._

He heard Parcy’s scream, and a ball of terror formed in his gut. She had fallen backward and the bokoblin was raising its burning club above its head.

The moment broke, and Beedle ran.

He passed the burning arrow into Link’s outstretched hand and immediately ran back to his pack, gasping for breath and shaking his hand out.

Link nocked the arrow, drew back, and fired. The bokoblin fell forward, and Parcy narrowly scrambled out of its way. She stood up and landed the killing blow on its skull before it could get up.

They all stood there for a moment. Beedle was nursing his hand by his new large pile of monster parts. Link was rolling his shoulders, apparently still comfortable with being nearly naked and filthy, besides. Parcy was staring down at the blue bokoblin’s body in faint wonder. Sweat stuck her dark hair to her face, which was almost prettily flushed. She looked up at Beedle, and he grinned at her.

Link ruined the moment by hopping down from the crate and loudly declaring, “I am going to go find my stuff.”

Beedle could only find the strength to nod before he plopped down by the fire. Hylia, sprinting a little bit and trading for arrows during a fight was _exhausting._ Parcy clearly had the same thought. She joined him by the fire, letting the bloodied axe thud to the ground.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the sun slowly slip over the horizon and paint Hyrule with brilliant orange, pink, and red. Beedle loved a lot of things about Hyrule, but one of the things he loved most was how the Hylia River became a ribbon of fire at the end of the day. The temperature was rapidly dropping, but it felt strangely welcoming after the fight.

Like most peaceful moments of this particular day, it was interrupted by Link. He was coming back up the road, genially calling out, “Hey, anyone want some food?”

Beedle wanted badly to say yes, but he was momentarily startled by Link’s appearance. He had clearly taken a bath in the river at some point, as Beedle could now definitely tell that yes, Link was blond. He no longer looked so small when he was armed to the teeth, either. He had amassed quite the collection of wooden clubs, along with a broadsword and a knight’s bow, all of which were strapped to his back. He carried the weight like it was nothing.

But Beedle was most interested in his clothes. Not his trousers or boots, which were torn and muddied garden-variety clothes that one could buy at any town in Hyrule. It was his tunic. It was as blue as the sky, and although it looked to be in fantastic shape, the tunic had clearly been meticulously, even lovingly mended many, many times. Maybe by Link himself, Beedle suspected, noting how clean it was compared to everything else he was wearing. 

He really did not mean to dwell on the tunic, but it was some of the finest tailoring he had ever seen in his journeys around Hyrule. Rito craftsmanship, perhaps? With a visit to Kochi Dye Shop? Wherever it came from, it had to have been exorbitantly expensive. Beedle leaned forward and eyed the pattern of white embroidery around the neckline with great interest.

Then an elbow caught him in the side and he cringed.

“Stop being rude,” Parcy snapped. “Of course we want food.”

 _Food_. “Yes, definitely,” Beedle said hastily. “Thank you.”

Link merely looked amused. It was amazing what a proper bath and some actual clothes had done to make him look like _not_ a lunatic.

He pulled some foraged ingredients out of his bag – Beedle saw some prime meat, what looked like wheat, and a bottle of milk – and dumped it in the pot, humming cheerily as the ingredients sizzled. Beedle watched the pot closely, suspicious that just dumping it all in would do anything.

But once Parcy emerged from the stable with bowls and spoons in hand, Link’s creamy meat soup was finished. By Hylia, was it better than anything Beedle could ever manage to cook up. Link looked far too pleased, almost smug, about how much Beedle and Parcy were enjoying their meals.

When they were all finished, the sun had almost set entirely. Parcy went around and lit all the exterior lamps of the stable, which cast a warm, golden glow on the cooking pot.

“Sorry I was rude to both of you earlier,” Link said, not quite making eye contact. “I was really hungry.”

“Just hungry?” Parcy deadpanned.

Unexpectedly, Link laughed, and the other two cracked a smile as well.

“So do you travel around Hyrule?” Beedle asked, his curiosity about the tunic still not satisfied. “I wonder why I haven’t met you before.”

“Hyrule is a big place,” Link said, sounding curiously unsure of himself.

Beedle shrugged. “You seem like an avid traveler. Where else would you have gotten all those weapons and that really nice tunic?”

Something in Link’s expression shuttered. The temperature seemed to drop just a touch. Beedle immediately shut his mouth, feeling acutely aware that he had made a grave misstep in some way.

“A friend made it for me,” Link eventually said, staring off into the distance. The look in his eyes wasn’t cold, exactly, but it was stony, intent, and suddenly very, very old.

Beedle swallowed, suddenly understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Link shook his head. “It’s alright. I can still save her.”

Beedle and Parcy exchanged worried glances as Link stood up and began collecting his things. “Wait, you’re leaving now?” Parcy asked with a frown. “We have plenty of beds.”

“I’ve slept enough for a lifetime,” Link said, and his smile was too full of melancholy for Beedle to make fun of him for that statement.

“I’m sure I’ll run into you again on the road,” Beedle said. “And bring me more monster parts next time!”

Link grinned and nodded. Then he waved goodbye and started walking north, along the river. Beedle watched until he vanished into the twilight.

“Goddess, he was weird,” Parcy muttered.

“Maybe, but I get the sense he’ll be a regular customer,” Beedle absently replied. Glancing at his pack, he realized that Link had left him all of the monster parts. He shook his head in exasperation. He somehow didn’t think Link would make a good business partner, but at least these monster parts would get him somewhere.

Suddenly, the Annoying Traveler burst out of the trees, out of breath. “Is he gone?”

“Who, nutjob shirtless kid?” Parcy sniped. “Where were you all this time?”

The traveler gave her a condescending look. “Well, when the kid mentioned that he was leading a whole cohort of monsters to the stable, I did what any _sane_ person would have done and got the hell out of here,” he said loftily.

“No need to be such a jerk about it,” Parcy was muttering, but Beedle was again concerned with the rise in monster activity. In the day’s excitement, he had forgotten just how unusual it was for monsters to have chased Link all the way from the East Post Ruins to Riverside Stable. There was that rumor he’d heard. Yeah, that the monsters were more aggressive, but there was a reason for it. What was it? Something about…uh…

“Apparently, our lives were in danger because the Champion of Hyrule has ‘awakened,’” the traveler said, with exaggerated air quotes and a copious amount of eyerolling. Oh, yeah, that was the rumor.

“It’s just a dumb story,” said Parcy. She was clearly losing her patience with the traveler.

Beedle agreed. It was a dumb story. The Calamity was dangerous, but only if you got too close to the castle. It showed no signs of budging. If it hadn’t destroyed Hyrule yet, was it _really_ ever going to? 

And the stories everyone told their kids about how Hyrule’s valiant princess awakened her sealing power with her love for her appointed knight was clearly romanticized drivel. No one really believed that the princess was still alive, or her knight for that matter.

But maybe... 

Link’s fighting skills were unparalleled, and his tunic certainly befit a Champion of Hyrule.

“What if…” Beedle began, but Parcy cut him off.

“Yeah, I really don’t think so,” she scoffed, but he saw the trace of doubt in her eyes.

The traveler scowled. “Oh, no. No way.”

“That’s what I _said_ – “

The traveler kicked Beedle’s pile of monster parts, scattering them about. “There’s no way that kid could be the Champion,” he furiously hissed. “Master Kohga is going to kill me.”

“Hey, take it easy,” Beedle said indignantly, scooping his fangs and horns up while shooting a glare at the traveler.

The traveler completely ignored him. He walked back into the trees from which he came, muttering darkly under his breath.

“Well, good riddance.” Parcy stuck her tongue out in the direction he went, and busied herself cleaning out the cooking pot.

Beedle just sighed and started stowing all of his new supplies in his pack. His fingers brushed against his notebook, and he hesitated for a moment. Throughout the day, he’d totally forgotten about his rules. Certainly none of them had really applied to Link’s insanity.

Was his guide to commerce just a pipe dream? Was his elixir empire just a far-off fantasy? Everything felt like such a long way off. He felt like he would never be able to write a good book if people just kept showing up and throwing his rules out the window.

And he loved his insects. He hated fighting monsters. Today had certainly proven that. How would he ever feasibly be able to make and sell elixirs? Link was clearly a warrior, not a salesman. He doubtlessly had better things to do than be Beedle’s errand boy and bring him monster parts. 

In that moment, Beedle felt strangely lonely. He sat down and pulled the notebook and quill out, hesitating over a blank page. _What did I learn today?_ After a moment, he decided.

_Rule #58: Don’t be afraid to adapt to new, bizarre circumstances or realizations._

And like that, Beedle had a new business idea.

Totally unrelated to the notebook, but no less brilliant. If he couldn’t bring himself to grind up his insects, why not have other people do it? _Make-your-own-elixir gift packs._ People would eat that up.

Beedle grinned and was about to pitch the idea to Parcy when suddenly he spotted Ember almost at the stable, leading a horse loaded with saddlebags. 

Ember blinked at the absolute mess the fight had left his stable in, nonplussed. “Um. What did I miss?”


End file.
